Angelus Errare
by Milo2
Summary: (R-Rated for safety purposes only) **SLASH WARNING** Seifer seeks revenge on he who ended his life by the workings of evil.
1. Author's Warnings

_Angelus Errare:  
The Prologue to Forever  
_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: A semi-AU fic. This takes place immediately during the last battle between Squall and Seifer. I changed around a couple of themes for the sake of added effect to the story. It's kinda hard to follow, but overall it isn't **horrible**, at least some people don't think so. Be prepared for **yaoi**,** shounen-ai, male/male** themes which may not hit your buzzer. Also, there should be a bit of **lemon** if all goes according to plan. Do NOT read if you are:   
-under seventeen  
-against homosexuality  
-immature  
-against lemons  
-race descriminatory or  
-a heavy religion practitioner that cannot tell the difference between devil worship and faith.  
I've had to enter those so many times as my fics are the ones more often misunderstood. Please enjoy the fic. Again, if you are against **violence, homosexuality, or anti-love** themes, please do not open. Enjoy! E-mail me at: Epitaph v@aol.com with any reviews. _


	2. Chapter I

_Angelus Errare:  
The Prologue to Forever  
_

A dream would come true that night. Harsh, burning crimson filled the sky as the Lunar Cry's welcoming hue. Of course - dreams could only succeed under a blood-tinted limelight. To dream evermore was weak; in the wake of celestial monsters, Seifer Almasy would reach out to wring his dream by the throat. A very vivid drip, this way and that, of fevered, angry scarlet would cease the walls between reality and a summer's lazy afternoon nap. The smirk and plea of knight and villain would become tangable; they would fill with life as teh stars flooded with glory; as black steel met olive flesh in that rip, pull, seduce, of crimson. Existence's fatigue would pause a wrong breath. _Justice._  
It was hard to follow one's lackey when lust blazed so bright within himself. Tremouring the veins, this lust excluded all fallability in a wager to pure satisfation. Glee from already a victory could almost muster the death-scent in in a smirking knight's senses. And one lone daughter of nobody raged with melancholy at a hero's perversion of a dream. Her part had been played, loud and quiet child to dance in step with one heart of blood-lust, and a scant minute after one unsteady plea for the past had the steel-toed boots of her regular uniform clomping gray sound against the crystal floor of Lunatic Pandora. Try as she might, one solitary female with platinum tresses to her one eye could never stabilize the passion that ruptured within the blonde of her heart. Not even with the backing of a taller, more confident man with her sense and a bit of extra smile (ya know?) could Fujin drive a tragic mission from Seifer's heart. As already, it pulsed through his body raw and untamed in the channels of his veins. And she ran because she could not see and Angel dressed in tattered white fall.   
It was definitely a holy sound, that of a whoosh and cling to bring about a spark. Two warriors danced about a simple battlefield of none but open space and flooring of fog hue. Long ago, a dark knight's two companions had ceased to try joining in the fast-paced wave, leaving rival to face rival. Glinting like new paint was the ember of the scars dressed in cold sweat each warrior wore. Just a dance that ripped at mercy every second; so regal they preformed, Seifer with mussed looks of cherry blonde to spell his auburn-haired source of an enemy, whose inner storm was enough to fury a quick many actions from one trusted gunblade. Of the demons, Squall was sent, a sudden, raging blur that brought down even the shark glory of the Hyperion, a rare gun-sword worth about as much as the new Sorceress that yelped behind the cover of her tattoed blonde comrade. All too obvious was the fact that Rinoa, newly invested powers and all, had joshed her heart deep into Squall earlier. All too obvious it was in the salt-embroided tears that trailed down lovely, angelically pale cheeks. Alabaster features could not muffle a cry emitted from rosy lips, and this Seifer took to personal satisfaction. Though two blades lay forgotten beyond reach, ebony upon cerulean engraved with life ruby, the dance continued still. Both bodies sagged with fatigue yet did not pause their step. Angry plams clothed by bleeding leather searched to end the battle with a blue desperation, and Seifer crouched over Squall, choking him firmly against the ground as spade-pupiled eyes of gray watched the knight within dying, glazing breaths. Turning; the sight of a crazed blonde in moments of insanity would not be the last sight of a breath-stolen SeeD. Instead, the soft hum-glow of Lionheart would sparkle his gaze. Adrenaline rushing to a climaxatic peak would spring Squall's own leather palms into action, wrapping soft over the opposite of a Lion's glory. Hyperion was almost as heavy as his heart as Squall realised he would never be able to lift it. And yet some dark, unseemly force took a hissing coil around the SeeD's strength. Leaking from his mouth in the guise of blood and sputtered chokes was the weakness he surrendered to the Guardon Force at work in his bleakest.   
The echo of Seifer's gasp proved Squall's dedication to the star-crossed power within. Jade covered for eternity beneath the feather-dusted lashes of the knight's eyelids. Head tilted to the side, his relaxing features knitted loose once and for all from the weave of a witche's insanity. Longing, dispair, hate and love, even, bid farewell in their flight of a thousand screams. Totured souls with far away wrath would welcome in the crystal of Seifer Almasy. A dream had been destroyed by the most unjust of forces. In justice lay still a wartorn commander, face gray wtih an ever-staring bleakened gaze. The brush and swoon of leather would dip to end forever's stare of death, then grasp firm and hold the one weapon which would fire an end through the lives of Zell Dincht and Rinoa Heartilly. Truth scattered such loyalty from Fate and Seifer Almasy did not breathe.  
He did, however, expose the purest of a viridian glare. Slowly at first, with wringing heart-steps, a dash to one hysterical princess was brought about by the will of the Sorceress. In his final motion did Seifer throw Rinoa to the carnivore that would devour her; did he fulfill his mission in delivering the youth to chilling, inhuman hands before once more plunging into the lucid, vibrant fever that was Death.  
_Of mixing colour and shape did he dream until three taps of a Crow's beak on blank stone jostled such a casualty as Seifer from eternal rest once more. In clawng to the surface from beneath a green-growing field, Seifer looked to the new moon. Elegant and bright, milky shadow of diamon bathing the undead knight, a dream was restored, and gained. "Squall. . . I will find you. And I will return the favor."_


End file.
